


Can We Talk?

by TheLadyKing



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angsty ish, M/M, Sam deserves all the love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 13:26:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7440940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyKing/pseuds/TheLadyKing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s not mad. Hurt a little maybe, physically and emotionally, but not mad. Never mad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's Like Losing A Race You'd Thought You'd Already Won

**Author's Note:**

> I have no beta, all my mistakes are my own. Shouldn't be too many tho. I've read it over six times but the eyes see what they want sometimes :)

Steve is an idiot. A big, stupid, _gorgeous_ , idiot who doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut at the slightest provocation. Even when it’s just two of them and six of the other guys.

But Sam can’t even find it in himself to be mad. Not when he’s sporting a split lip, a black eye, and bruised ribs the next day. Not when his boss hints at possible domestic issues he may be having at home (he wants to laugh when she begins handing him pamphlets but thankfully doesn’t). Not even when he walks in on Steve half in Bucky’s lap on the couch making out like a couple of teenagers.

He’s not mad. Hurt a little maybe, physically and emotionally, but not mad. Never mad.

* * *

 

Sam’s a waffle man, he gets it from his father.

And yes, before you ask, he knows there’s no real difference between waffles and pancakes but he has a preference, _okay_?

So he likes waffles, _loves_ waffles, but somehow he always finds himself making two large heaping stacks of pancakes every Saturday morning anyway. They’re not even for him, he _hates_ pancakes, but Steve loves them and Bucky loves Steve and Sam loves… making people happy. So he makes pancakes and he smiles and if he forgets to make himself a waffle by the time breakfast is served no one says anything when he’s nibbling on his own short stack.

* * *

Bucky proposes one morning and Steve says yes. It's all terribly romantic and Sam aches something terrible as he watches them gush and kiss and smile. He smiles too when they turn to him, wanting to share their happiness with him. They love him, they say. It's all thanks to him, Bucky admits. Sam regrets the moment he'd talked them into their first date but he still smiles and laughs and hugs them. They celebrate together, the three of them, and Sam acts the part of the excited best friend with ease. He's got a fantastic grip on his emotions.

They make plans together. Planning their wedding, arguing over who gets Sam as their best man, and they laugh. There's so much laughter it makes him sick.

"We should get a bigger place. I've always wanted a daughter. Wouldn't it be funny for her to call you Uncle Sam?" Steve's glowing and Bucky is glowing and Sam feels like he's getting dimmer and dimmer just being near them.

"You still have to live with us, Sam. It takes a village, you know!" More laughter. It's all so funny it makes him want to cry.

 

_He imagines it won’t hurt so much with distance._

He needs to escape.

* * *

 

He’s never been the self-sacrificing type, martyrdom is not a look he thinks he’d wear well but for Steve he has no problem trying it on and wearing it like a second skin.

So he packs up his things from their apartment and ships them over to his sister’s house over the span of a few months. If anyone notices things beginning to go missing no one says anything. It isn’t until April that all of his stuff, save a few things (i.e. gifts from Steve and Bucky) he doesn’t want to take with him, are removed from their tiny Brooklyn apartment. He’s found a nice place in Harlem, near his sister’s brownstone, and he’s excited to finally be able to leave this place.

To breathe again.

* * *

 

But, if he's honest with himself, it's not really self-sacrifice if it's for his own peace of mind, right?

* * *

 

He avoids Steve and Bucky successfully for two whole months, which is something since they have a lot of the same friends and Sam’s been hanging out with Rhodey more and more and where Rhodey goes Tony follows. And where Tony goes everyone else seems to just pop up.

No one besides Rhodey mentions his sudden move but even then it’s all lighthearted jabs and Sam feels better for it. Everyone somehow just knows where he lives and they all have no problem showing up. Even Thor has stopped by with a toaster as a housewarming gift and Sam hasn’t even said two words to the man the whole time they’ve known each other.

But he takes the toaster anyway, it’s cute and red and looks very expensive. He wonders if expensive toasters toast differently? Better?

And even if he’s only been there for two months his place feels lived in and homey and he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Probably.

And as each day turns to the next it gets much easier to forget about whatever had come before this. The pain is dulling and he’s grateful if a bit lonely. His friends are nice but Sam misses having someone to hold.

* * *

 

He goes on a date with a nurse named Claire Temple who’s very nice and funny and _beautiful_ but there’s no spark there (she isn’t who he wants and he isn’t who she wants either) and they decide before the date is even over to just remain friends. It’s while they’re getting pho in some small shop in Chinatown that he sees Steve again for the first time in what feels like forever.

His heart hammers in his chest as Claire makes some joke he’s sure is hilarious but he can’t hear her because he’s only focused on Steve crossing the street with a dark look on his face as he makes his way over to them.

Steve looks good, so so _so_ good and Sam’s palms are sweating all of a sudden and then Steve’s in front of him and all the sounds rushes back to him like he’d just come for a gasp of air after diving deep in the ocean.

“Can we talk?”


	2. What Are Friends For?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam remembers what it's like to love a blond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again all mistakes are my own.

Sam remembers what it’s like to love a blond, remembers Riley like he’d just seen him the day before. Remembers the wildness and desperation they’d loved each other with. And he can still remember the last time he’d seen him- the darkness in his eyes and stiffness of his gait. They’d been arguing about something stupid and useless and so utterly not worth it.

The next thing he’d known Riley was dead and he’d sworn to himself, promised that’d he’d never love like that again. He’d dated a lot since then, there were so many names and faces and personalities but no blonds and no white boys… not until now. Not until Steve.

* * *

 

Steve is shaking when Sam finally works up the courage to look him in the eyes. Trembling like a leaf in the wind, holding resiliently to some sort of inner strength he’s always seemed to have. Even back when he was a little twig of a boy. And it’s this strength that Sam has always admired, loved, and _feared_.

It’s the same sort of strength Riley had way back when and gosh if Sam has fallen for another blond, another white boy, and _gotdamn_ he feels like a fool!

“Sam,” Steve starts before shaking his head and sighing heavily. He’s flustered and turning pink and Sam wants to leave. He’s been avoiding this man for a reason and he doesn’t want to do whatever they’re about to do now. He can’t.

Not now. Not yet.

But he doesn’t have it in him to walk away from Steve like this. He’s never been able to walk away from Steve when he’s staring at him quite like this, same as he used to be with Riley. He doesn’t have that strength. He’d follow both men into hell without hesitation and if he’s honest with himself, he already has. If hell is loving someone who doesn’t love you the way you love them then Sam’s been there for too much of his life already and he just wants to get _out_.

Claire makes the decision to leave for him though, she’s got a practiced eye and can tell Sam isn’t in the right place for this conversation so she’s pushing Sam out the door with a stiff farewell before Steve can even gather himself and the words he’s been trying to put together for the past two minutes and Sam is so so grateful for her.

Thank goodness he tends to attract these types of people, people who want to take care of him and he wants to take care of in kind.

Like Riley. Like Steve.

* * *

 

Bucky is outside when they step out- looking as dingy and sullen as usual- bright blue eyes snapping over Sam, cataloging every aspect about him from his head to his toes. Noticing the worn look on his face and at an instant part of Sam, the small secret part he hides so well, hates him.

Hates this man who gets to love the man Sam has been pining over for years now. Hates the man who gets to hold him and kiss him. Hates the man who shoves that happiness in his face. He hates Bucky Barnes more in this moment than he ever has before.

But the bigger part of him, the stupidly huge part of him, loves this brown haired man with a fierceness. With passion that has nothing to do with romance. He loves Bucky because Steve loves him. Loves him because he’s always been right there when Same needed him. Loves him because he’s protective and charming and witty when he wants to be. Loves him because even when they weren’t friendly Bucky has always always been his friend, from the very start. And it makes him sick, so _fucking_ sick, to know that he could resent this man. That he could want to take and claim the person most important to him and Sam hates himself more than he could ever hate Bucky. More that he could ever hate anyone.

“You gotdamn asshole, come _home_. Just… just come home, Sam,” Bucky growls. And Sam wants to, he wants to call up his new landlord and break his lease. He wants to drop everything and pack up all his stuff and go back to that little apartment in Brooklyn and spend the rest of his days besides his two best friend in the whole world. And _damn_ , he’s lucky that Claire is right there with him, pushing him on and past Bucky before he can make good on his desires.

And even if he wants to go back, he knows he can’t. Nothing will change if he doesn’t make it change. He’ll still be unhappy and resentful. And he loves them, even if he loves one differently, he loves them both but he loves himself too and he’d rather be alone than surrounded by their love for each other. He’d rather never see them again than put himself in that position again.

One day, maybe he’ll be able to stand beside them and not want to kiss Steve silly but for now he’s content just taking a step back to work on himself.

Sam’s got to put himself first this time around, for everyone’s sake.

* * *

 

When Riley died he’d thought he’d never love again. He really wishes now that that had been true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may not seem like it but I promise there will be a happy ending to this! I just really love the idea of Sam being vulnerable. It's rare to see anything with him showing any type of softness and it's a little off putting to me that he always has to be the put together one. Anyway be sure to let me know what you think so far.
> 
> Next time Sam gets cornered and there's no Claire there to save him. Also more Rhodey and Tony next chapter.


	3. Some People Don't Know How To Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most of boys wanted to be superheroes or police men or something equally macho and male dominated but Sam… Sam wanted to be his mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter reads differently, lots more dialogue. Also sorry for any mistakes. Once this fic is finished I'll pick it over with a fine tooth comb, promise.
> 
> Also I think this one is a bit longer then the other two.

When he was older his brother used to tease him. He’d called him all sorts of names and had delighted in Sam’s tearful responses.

Sam remembers clearly the day it had all come to an end. He’d been sniffling and whining for Gideon to stop when his mother walked in the room wearing one of her fine church dresses,big stately hat firmly in place, with a hand on her hip.

He’d watched her give his brother a tongue lashing like he’d never seen and he’d known right then and there that that’s who he wanted to be when he grew up. Most of boys wanted to be superheroes or police men or something equally macho and male dominated but Sam… Sam wanted to be his mother.

* * *

 

“Samuel _Thomas_ Wilson!” Sam winced, holding the phone away from his ear. He’d just gotten in from his morning jog and was looking forward to doing nothing but taking a shower and gorging on the box of clementines Claire had bought him the day before when he’d looked down at his phone and seen eighteen missed calls from his mother.

Whatever it was she wanted she was not happy with having been ignored.

“Mama,” Sam started softly, hoping to placate her no doubt buzzing anger.

“Don’t you dare ‘ _mama_ ’ me, boy. You wanna tell me why I’m just now finding out you don moved to Harlem two months ago and _still_ ain’t come visit me? Huh, boy? Cause, I for one, am mighty curious as to why I had to find this out from your sister when she came to pick up lil Jody today. What you hiding from your mama now? You get in some trouble out in Brooklyn? Somebody do something to you cause _so help me, Lord_ I will fight anyone who tries to mess with my baby!” his mother rambled on and on. She was always like that. Especially after his father’s death.

“Ma, I’m sorry. I’m fine. Everything’s good,” he swore, hoping she’d be satisfied with that. Of course she just grumbled and kept going, ignoring him completely. That was just like her. Fiercely protective of him even now.

“Well if you so damn fine why you ain’t call me? You know what we’re going to brunch today. G’on and get dressed and come see me at Sylvia’s in an hour. We g’on eat and talk, talk and eat.”

“Mama...,” he started only to be cut off by his mother sucking her teeth like she tended to do when she was especially annoyed.

“What I said? Don’t _‘mama’_ me, boy. You g’on get ready and come see me. And don’t even _think_ about bringing your wallet, Samuel. I ain’t seen my baby in forever so I’m paying, _don’t you argue with me_ , I’m old and I ain’t got no better use for this money anyway. Now I’ma let you off so you can get dressed and ready. Dress nice baby. It’s a Sunday.” And with that she hung up just as quickly as she’d called.

He sighed heavily and looked longingly at his box of clementines. They’d be there when he got back anyway. Besides, much as he’d deny it now, he loved spending time with his mother. Even before his father had died she’d been his whole world.

* * *

 

His mother hated Riley from the first moment she’d laid eyes on him. Remained stone faced at every quip and joke he’d uttered to try and lighten the mood and at the end of the night everyone was feeling just as tense as she looked.

When Riley had finally left to return to his hotel room, one Sam had assured him he wouldn’t need to go back to earlier in the night, Sam finally got the chance to approach his mother about her behavior. He’d been so sure she’d love Riley, she was usually enthusiastic about meeting any of his old flames and he didn’t understand what had gone wrong this time. Wasn’t like Riley was the first white guy he’d brought home so it couldn’t have been a racial thing, though Riley’s words from earlier showed that he’d clearly thought so.

But, if he were honest, Riley was just projecting. Just because his family didn’t like that Sam was a black man, or a man at all, didn’t mean his mother was the same. Right?

“Mama, what was that?”

“What was what, baby?” she’d responded cool as a cucumber as she put the leftovers in their designated Tupperware containers. The big red one was for what was left of the ham she’d made for the night, blue lid for the collards, black containers for the left over mac and cheese.

“Why’d you… why’d you act like that with Riley?” he’d asked clearly, trying to help her with the task but his hands were shaking so bad. His mama liked everyone, what was so different about the man he loved? About the man he wanted to spend his whole life with?

“I don’t like him, simple as that. I know the look of that boy and he ain’t nothing but trouble sure as I am your mama,” she’d stated plainly as if it was the simplest to understand thing in the world.

“That isn’t fair, you don’t even know him! Ma, he’s so funny and amazing and smart! Mama, he’s so smart and-and I love him. And he loves me and he makes me happy and I want you to love him too, ma. I just… I don’t understand,” his words trailed into a whisper at the end. And he didn’t, couldn’t get why of all his partners his mother had to have an aversion to the only he’d ever wanted to stay.

“He’s no good for you, baby. Ain’t known the boy more than a day but I can already see that. He’s the type to come storming in and out of your life. I know men like that and I don’t trust them. Not with you, not with none of my babies. And that boy, Sam, that boy you love will break you without any remorse and that’s a fact.”

* * *

 

And Riley had broken him, had unwittingly whittled down his self-esteem until he’d known nothing of himself that didn’t exist before Riley. And the worst part, more than just the fact that his mama had been right all along, was that Riley didn’t even know it. Hadn’t even meant for it to happen like that.

Riley had loved him; he’d always known that. Riley had loved him so beautifully but the problem was that Riley didn’t know how to love with consuming. Riley didn’t know how to love without breaking and tearing and shattering. Riley had only known what he’d seen. Had only known toxicity and lies.

That wasn’t his fault but sometimes Sam wished it had been. Wished there had been no background context for why everything between them had fallen apart.

But Riley had broken him and then... then he’d died.

* * *

 

“My baby in all his splendor!” his mother cried as he stepped up to the table she was sitting at. It was one on the outside sidewalk, closest to where he’d just hopped out of his cab. The same one they’d always sat at, almost always anyways. When he was younger they’d sat inside and things had been very different-the menu, the people, the decor- but his father had liked being able to see out the windows. If he were alive now he’d probably had loved sitting outside even more.

“Hey ma, how you doing?” he asked as he pulled her into a hug. She was shorter now than she had been the last time he’d seen her, shrinking with age she’d always joked. It was weird how he could feel so big and yet so small when he was near her. Like he was still that little boy Gideon used to tease just in a different body and he supposed in some ways he was.

“I’ve been good, baby. Been helping out down at the church and I’m still running that little clinic. Them younger girls down at the clinic been gossiping ‘bout me retiring but that ain't never happening. I’ll be dead before I stop working and that’s a fact.” Sam smiled, sitting opposite her once she’d finally released him from her hold. She was just the same as ever, still devout, still a spitfire.

“Tell me about you, baby. How’s Steve and his man doing? They move with you?” Sam felt his smile melt, all the warmth he’d been feeling leaving him at an instant.

He’d avoided thinking about Steve or Bucky or the pain in his chest he felt every time he remembered why he’d had to leave. Why he’d had to run.

“They didn’t move with me so I don’t know how they are. I don’t talk with them anymore. They’re engaged,” he said as if that explained everything and by the look on his mother’s face it did. He wondered how long she’d known.

“You know Gideon wasn’t you father’s child, don’t you?” his mother asked suddenly, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, I know,” he nodded. Darlene smiled softly as she took his hand over the top of the table, stroking her thumb over his palm softly, soothingly.

“Not as if your daddy even cared. He’d tell anyone Gideon was his and he was for a good long time. And still is. Just as much as you are, just as much as Sarah. Before I met you daddy I was engaged to this fella everyone called Big Al. He was this huge man, just like Gid is now, and just about the most high yellar man you’d ever seen with the lightest eyes. Just the complete opposite of your Daddy. And everyone loved Big Al but me most of all. He was so funny and amazing and smart, boy he was some kind of genius when you got him going, but he could be real mean when he wanted to.

He never hit me but didn’t know how to love me without hurting me so he hurt me all the time. Called me names, yelled, shouted, anything to make me feel real low. Cause to him that’s what he was supposed to do. That’s what his daddy did and what his daddy’s daddy did before him. But I used to give it back to him. We could scream and shout all day with no breaks and then wake up in the morning so full of love. One day he just up and left. No message or nothing. I was maybe a month pregnant at the time…,” she trailed off, her eyes glassy with the memories. Sam gripped her hand tightly.

“Ma, you don’t....” Darlene raised her hand to stop him from continuing, smiling sadly down at her menu for a moment.

“When I first met your Riley that’s who I saw. I saw Big Al and I wanted to protect you. You’ve always been the most sensitive of my children. You’re like your daddy. You’re a helper and you’ll just keep going ‘til you’ve got nothing left to give and when I saw you after Riley died I was so scared I’d lost you. So scared he’d taken everything from you like those damn thugs who killed your father had taken everything from him.

But it’s different when I see the three of y’all. When I see you and Steve and his young man. It makes me think of me and your father. When I met him Gideon was two years old and I was as bitter as they came. I didn’t believe a word he said to me. Eventually we became friendly and he got himself a girlfriend named Barbra. Sweetest woman I ever met.”

“Aunty Barb?”

Darlene nodded once more, her curly hair bouncing on her shoulders with the movement.

“One and the same. On Gideon’s third birthday we three took him to the Zoo and while I was watching your father chase after your brother she came right up to me and she said ‘He’s gonna marry you’ and next thing I knew I was in love and tying the knot with Barbra as my maid of honor. I never loved anyone the way I _love_ Barbra, would have shared your Daddy with her if that’s what she wanted. Would have shared anything with her if that’s what she wanted but she wasn’t the type.”

Sam didn’t know what to say, his mother had never told him this part of the story before. He’d known his Aunty Barb wasn’t his aunt by blood and that she’d dated his father for a very short while but he’d never known it had gone down like that.

“So what I’m saying,” his mom continued,” is if you’re running cause them boys told you to go then you keep on doing what you got to do. But if you’re running cause you’re scared then you got to face that. There’s nothing worse than not knowing. And that’s a fact.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that happened, huh? Also no Tony or Rhodey in this chapter, not for lack of trying. They'll be in the next one, I promise. Also Steve and Bucky come back for the last hurrah! Also can I say that I really liked writing Sam's mom. I didn't model her after any mothers I know personally but when I think of a good mom I think of someone like I imagine her to be. Anyway....
> 
> Let me know what you thought of this chapter and how you think this should/will end. 
> 
> :)
> 
> Also Sylvia's is a real place in Harlem with really great food. If you're ever in the area check it out.


	4. First Comes Awareness, Then Comes Heartache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I’m in a damn wheelchair and I didn’t even for a moment get to be angry about that. Not because Tony wouldn’t let me but because _I_ wouldn’t let me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So very different feel for this chapter from the previous one. Also this is a set up for a Tony/Rhodey fic I've got in the works so it just kinda lays out the issues but doesn't explore them too in depth.
> 
> Once again all these booty mistakes are my own fault. Hope there aren't too many.

When he wakes Tony is clutching him tight, his face buried in his side, drool steadily leaking from his parted lips. The sun is filtering through the bare windows that take up the whole of the wall to his right. The view of New York is spectacular but doesn’t hold a candle to the man in his arms. The love of his life, it sounds silly when he thinks it but it’s been the only real truth he’s known for a long time.

Which makes it so much harder to extract himself from his grumbling lover’s arms. Makes it that much harder when he packs up a small duffel with as many clothes as he can stuff in it. Makes it that much harder to leave.

But as sure as he loves Tony, as sure as he’s beyond smitten, he’s sure he isn’t stupid.

* * *

 

It’s less about having attended MIT as a gangly 16-year-old and more about knowing people really. And he’s always known people. Learned from his mother how to read a person ten ways to Sunday before they could even open their mouth.

So he knows the man in front of him is lying through his fucking teeth.

“It’s a business thing, I should be back in a few days,” Tony explains, his eyes focused intently on the plate of fish and fries before him.

Rhodey nods and keeps eating his own food silently. He’s not going to confront Tony on this. He’d called him out about a “business trip” just the previous week and all it’d done was start an argument he didn’t want to repeat. So if Tony wanted to lie that was fine with him. Let him have his damn secrets if that’s what he wanted. Let him think Rhodey believed him.

“Are we… are we okay?” Tony asked nervously, looking up to finally look Rhodey in his dark brown eyes.

Were they okay? What a loaded question. What a laugh.

“When are you leaving?” Rhodey asked instead of responding. He isn’t going to play _this_ game right now. He’s not in the mood.

“Tomorrow morning,” Tony answers, still looking hopeful. Jim wants to laugh, wants to throw something, wants to shake the man he loves but instead he just nods and pushes away from the table, his appetite gone.

“Well, have a good flight.” And that’s that. He’s not going to see Tony off, not with him lying to him like this. It’s one of their rules, total honesty, and here Tony is. Lying through his teeth for the umpteenth time this week.

“Honey?” Tony asks, standing to follow him from the room.

“I’m going out. Don’t wait up.”

* * *

 

The last time Tony had kept something from him he’d been going off to get chemo treatments all by himself. He’d been losing hair and sleep and time in secrecy as if there was no one in the world who’d have been hurt if he’d died. Tony hasn’t ever known how to lie about small things. He’s only ever tried to keep important things from people.

If Jarvis hadn’t contacted him way back when Jim would have never known Tony’s parents had passed away. Tony had left to attend their funeral and then had been back in school like everything was fine. He’d drunk a lot more but he’d never said anything to Jim.

In their twenties when he’d been at the lowest point in his life he’d gone with Jim to see his mom’s graduation from community college high on amphetamines, hiding cuts on his wrists with an oversized suit jacket in 90-degree weather.

Tony was his best friend who never told him anything important. His best friend who’d lie to him to avoid having tough conversations. His best friend who thought he’d deserved to suffer in silence. Tony was the man he’d always loved who had almost died a dozen times and he’d only ever known because someone else had told him or he’d learned from the news or gossip magazines.

Obviously there were times where it hadn’t felt like they were best friends at all. Best friends told each other everything but Tony never told him anything.

Well lies, he did tell him plenty of those.

And that's why he'd he’d made Tony promise to be honest with him when they had finally gotten together, even if it was hard or would hurt he wanted the truth. He’d kissed Tony’s scars and held him the whole night as his best friend, his new lover, spilled his guts. He didn’t pretend to understand it all but he made a constant effort to be honest about things with Tony too.

And things had seemed fine. More than fine, he’d bought a ring months ago. A week before Tony had started lying again. Had started hiding things from him.

He couldn’t, wasn’t going to go through it again.

* * *

 

He’d never blamed Tony for the crash. They’d been arguing and he should have known Tony wasn’t in a good enough state of mind to be driving. He’d just been so angry, so frustrated. He’d felt so used.

* * *

 

“Jim, my main man! What’s going on?” Sam asked, smiling wide as he held the door open wide for Jim to wheel himself into the apartment. Sam had lucked out with a rather accessible building in lower Manhattan, which was surprising for a building almost twenty something years old.

“Hey man, just needed to clear my head,” Jim admitted as he made his way deeper into the apartment. Sam nodded, closing and locking the door behind him before stepping quickly to his side.

“What’s going on, man? You want to talk about it?”

“I don’t want to unload on you I just… I needed to vent to someone, is that okay?” Jim sighed. Sam nodded again, plopping down on his brown leather couch. His furniture reminded Jim of that first apartment he’d shared with Tony. Muted earth tones dominated this space as it had that two-bedroom apartment back then. Tony’s mother had decorated the place. She’d liked shades of brown. Jim had only met her that one time but he’d hoped she’d liked him too.

_“Take good care of him, Jim. I’m counting on you,”_ she’d whispered before leaving, holding him in a warm embrace.

“When Pepper left Tony he was a mess. I, of course, didn’t find out until weeks later. Not until she’d called me and asked me, begged me, to check up on him. He’d been in the bathroom when I got in, broken glass everywhere. I thought he was going to die, there was so much blood.

No one knows about that night. He was conscious enough to beg me not to call an ambulance so I called some private doctor he had on speed dial. Turns out it wasn’t the first time that had happened. Just the first time I’d been there, that I’d known.

He’d almost died that same way so many times and no one had told me. I was so mad. Furious. My best friend was suffering and I couldn’t… hadn’t even been able to help. Hadn’t gotten the chance.”

* * *

 

At first it had seemed unfair. People had a right to their secrets, that’s what his mother had told him.

_‘You can’t force honesty, Jim. Not on anybody but especially not from the person you love.’_

He’d known she was right, she was always right, but it hadn’t made all of it hurt any less. He loved Tony, so so much, with everything in him he loved Tony. Had left Carol in the middle of the night after that call from Pepper. Had driven from their vacation in Pittsburgh to New York like a speeding bullet to make sure he was okay.

He’d done everything he could for the man, but most importantly, he’d always been honest with him. Always been open. Too many people had lied to Tony and he didn’t want to be one of them, not ever.

So what did it say about him that Tony was so fine with lying to him? That Tony kept so many secrets from him? What was _wrong_ with him?

* * *

 

Tony was twenty-four years old and rail thin. Jim only knew because his sister Jeannette had seen a special report about him on the news. Jim called in a favor with his superior officer to get emergency leave. He’d rushed to California like a chicken with its head cut off, so worried that he’d get there too late.

When he got to Tony he was higher than he’d ever been, hallucinating, and standing on the highest ledge of his house.

When he’d seen Jim running from his rented car to the house he’d smiled and Jim’s heart broke for him. Not for the first time and certainly not for the last.

* * *

 

“I’m so tired, Sam. It feels like there’s a river between us that I can’t cross. But I’ve been trying anyway. Tony’s got so much guilt and self-loathing and trauma that I feel like a monster sometimes, like I’m demanding too much from him and I guess maybe this is how Pepper felt. Like her setting boundaries was just another thing feeding Tony’s turmoil. It’s frustrating, shit man, it’s frustrating.”

Sam nodded his head, sitting closer to the edge of his seat now. And that made Jim feel like shit too. He’d been thinking about talking to Sam about whatever it was going on between him and Steve and Bucky but then the lies had gotten to be too much and he’d just barged his way into his friend’s home and started unloading on him when he already had so much to deal with.

“Hey man, I can see what you’re thinking and you need to stop. I’m good, you’re my friend and I want to help. If just listening does that then that’s what I’ll do, okay?”

Jim nodded his head. He had other good friends but none that lived as close by as Sam. None that he wanted to even share this with but Sam.

“Look at us, man. Stuck on a pair of fools,” he joked. Sam cracked a smile then and chuckled along with him.

“We should start a support group. Bet we’d get a lot of people to join too. There’s got to be more like us. Falling in love with your best friend is hard enough in normal circumstances. Harder when they’re a recovering addict or they’re engaged,” Sam laughed.

“Who’s engaged?”

“Steve, he didn’t-they didn’t tell you guys?”

Jim shook his head and shrugged.

“Didn’t tell anyone.”

* * *

 

That night it was raining and Jim had been snuggled up with Carol, laughing quietly as they’d joked together. Their relationship was easy and light and he appreciated it. She was probably the first woman, first person, in a long time that he’d been really ready to settle down with. Hell, they’d even talked about maybe having children one day.

She wanted a house full, he’d have been happy with just one.

They were laughing breathlessly between kisses when he’d heard a pounding at his door that had them both instantly alert. Nothing good came from any four am visitor.

When he’d found Tony soaked to the bone and fidgeting on his front steps he hadn’t even blinked, just invited him in and rushed to grab him some towels to dry off with. Hadn’t even gone back to Carol to explain the situation, just sat in his guest room with a shaking Tony for the longest time before she’d come down to see what was going on.

She wasn’t surprised or even particularly angry when she saw who it was wrapped in his arms. But she was upset. Their break up a few days after was a testament to that.

* * *

 

“I just… I have so much more to say. There’s so much to unpack between me and Tony. But I just- I can’t, I won’t carry his emotions and my own anymore. It’s too much. I’m in a damn wheelchair and I didn’t even for a moment get to be angry about that. Not because Tony wouldn’t let me but because _I_ wouldn’t let me. I don’t know when it happened Sam but at some point I stopped being me.

And shit, I think I’m doing this wrong because originally I came thinking I needed to tell you to face the music with Steve and Bucky. To talk to them because those two lug heads have been in my house all hours of the day mopping around and waiting for you but don’t go back there because they need you to carry them. Don’t go there and push down your own feelings. You deserve more than that. We both deserve so much fucking more than that. Okay, do you hear me Sam? We deserve more than being someone's rock. We deserve someone acknowledging our feelings too." Sam nodded, his hand now clutching Jim's tightly. The two of them sat there together in silence for a long moment before a banging at Sam's front door shook them both out of their own thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is. One more chapter and I can return to my hole. Follow me on [tumblr](http://thebadlass.tumblr.com/) where I am undoubtedly more interesting, funnier, and all around bundle of adult sized joy.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey this is the first thing I've written in a thousand years so I hope you all enjoyed it. Let me know what you think. I'm not sure if I'll continue but it'd be nice to see what does or doesn't need improvement regardless.


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